In Memorandum
by Andrix
Summary: Pooch cooks. Jensen remembers. HUGE SPOILERS. Do not read unless you've read BOOK TWO. Implied Cougar/Jenson. Rated for strong language!


**A/N: I don't think Jensen actually had a niece in the comic series, but his devotion to her in the movie is fantastic. I named her Caylee, since she doesn't actually get a name, to the best of my knowledge. Huge spoilers! Tread lightly, people, this will RUIN Book Two for you if you haven't read it. _RUIN._**

Former-Corporal Jake Jensen sat idly in Pooch's backyard as his niece ran around playing with Jasmine and Ashley. He had a beer in his hand. It wasn't his favourite beer, but it was the favourite of someone he'd cared a lot about. Pooch looked over past the girls. He held his spatula in his left hand as he flipped burgers. The stub where the top joint of his pinky used to be served as a permanent reminder of what they had been through together.

"Hey, Jensen, how many 'dogs did you say you wanted?" he asked.

"As many as I can eat," Jensen replied with a grin.

Pooch pointed an accusing finger at him "I ain't cookin' more than two packages, Jensen, you bottomless pit. You're gonna eat me and my babies out of house and home."

"Who's the one who invited me and Caylee over for dinner?" Jensen shot back. Pooch shook his head and went back to his grill.

Jensen leaned back in the lawn chair and raised his beer to his lips. He recoiled. It tasted like piss, it always tasted like piss, but it was still the only thing he ever drank after... that. He sighed as his mind went reeling into the past.

He remembered when he first met Carlos Alvarez. Right from the start he looked like someone you didn't want to mess with. Luckily for Jensen, he never paid much attention to things like that. It got him in trouble a lot, but from the first time he accidentally pissed off whatever terrorist sect they were up against, the sniper was there to make sure he didn't become Headless Jensen for real. He remembered calling him Carlos for a year, just to hear him assert that he be called Cougar, because that's what everyone else called him. He remembered how Cougar used to smirk, just a quirk of his lips, every time Jensen failed miserably trying to pick up his dame du jour. He remembered being cheated in poker – it's always the quiet ones – and he remembered Cougar calling him "camel-beard".

He remembered Afghanistan.

Cougar had never been quite right after Afghanistan, when the chopper went down and all those _angelitos_ died in their places. It had been the first time Jensen had ever seen Cougar cry. No matter what had happened, what they had seen, Cougar never cried. Until Afghanistan. He remembered checking in on Cougar a few nights after it had happened, when they were finally safe, and found the sniper weeping under his omnipresent cowboy hat, pretending to be asleep. He remembered staying by Cougar's side when he woke up screaming that night. He remembered holding the broken mess that had been his – their – unshakeable, infallible sniper. His backup. The only reason his ass wasn't grass a thousand times over, as he wept and prayed for the 28 souls lost in their names.

He remembered breaking into Goliath years later. He remembered his silly telekinetic bluff that Cougar made incredibly awesome by sniping the three guards from a building hundreds of yards away.

He remembered the time after everyone thought he'd actually died, when he showed up in a life raft two hours later. Cougar had been so thrilled to see him. He didn't just hug Jensen, he latched on like he never wanted to let go. Cougar had smiled at him after that. It was a rare thing, seeing Cougar smile, but every time he did a little part of Jensen melted like chocolate in the sun.

He stared up at the sky as the most painful thing floated through his mind. He remembered Cougar, beaten and bloody and full of holes bleeding on some God-forsaken oil rig, telling Jensen to leave him and get away.

"Fuck you, Cougar, I ain't leavin' you behind!" he had screamed.

"You gotta," Cougar had mummbled, "Can't swim like this. They'll be comin'. I'll hold 'em off. Just get as far away as you can, an' don't... look back."

Jensen's scalp tingled as he remembered his fingers raking over it as Coug grabbed the nuke. "You crazy son of a bitch. Jesus. You don't have to do this—"

"I do," Cougar replied.

"I'll come back for you, Coug," he had said, with more conviction than he had ever placed on any of the echelons of words that poured out of his mouth on a regular basis, "There's a rescue ship waiting. We'll ammo up and come back. Even if they find you, nobody's gonna fuck with a guy's got a nuke in his lap-"

"Heh... whatever you say, Jensen," Cougar muttered in a pained voice, giving Jensen one last smirk.

_Don't you do that_, Jensen had thought, _don't you look at me like that when you're about to die, you son of a bitch. Don't you dare._

"If they do get the drop on me... 'least I'll go out.. with a bang."

_No. No no no no- _Jensen's mind hammered. He stared desperately at Cougar for a moment before turning away so the sniper wouldn't see the tears in his eyes. "Motherfucker."

Cougar smiled and held his arms out slightly as Jensen looked over his shoulder. He fell to his knees and latched on to his doomed _compadre _tighter than he'd ever held anything in his life.

"Cougar, I-"

"Don't say it," Cougar interrupted, "Don't you dare."

Jensen took one last, desperate look at Carlos Alvarez before he got to his feet and handed him a bag. "That's the last of my ammo and clips," he said, "Is there anything else you need?"

"Just one thing," Cougar said, reaching over to another of the waterproof bags and pulling out his hat. He put it on his head and looked over at Jensen. "Rock."

Jensen lowered himself into the oil pipe, wiping his eyes just as he disappeared.

He was snapped back to reality as Pooch prodded him with the spatula, leaving a stain on his favourite shirt. He frowned and wiped his hand over it.

"Jensen! Jesus, you've been staring off into space for twenty minutes now! ... What were you thinking about...?"

Jensen looked down at the table next to his lawn chair, where a cowboy hat sat.

"I miss him, Pooch," he said quietly, "That son of a bitch."

Pooch looked down at Jensen sadly. "Me too, both of them. Best friends I ever had." he stared at the hat for a minute before saying, "Your 'dogs are ready." and walking away.

Jensen took one last look up at the sky. "Vaya con Dios," he muttered, taking a long draught of his beer.

It still tasted like piss.


End file.
